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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582676">Mist on the Sea of Clouds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightmist/pseuds/Nightmist'>Nightmist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fairy tales used to be NASTY guys, Other, Sad Ending, Weirdness, doomed romance, fairy tale AU, i honestly have no idea how to tag this thing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:28:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582676</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightmist/pseuds/Nightmist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This came off of a Bookclub prompt that I've lost the original poster of, suggesting a Nidhogg/WoL twist on the Little Mermaid.</p><p>And so here we have it. Nidhogg makes a bargain, to try and woo the soul of his beloved reborn as the Warrior of Light.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nidhogg/Warrior of Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mist on the Sea of Clouds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Y'all, I love me some fairy tales. I also love how the originals of most of them were <i>dang well messed up</i> okay? This is very much in that tradition. Hopefully someone else will get a little entertainment from it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Long ago, they had been seven, and the world had been bright and joyous and safe. They spread over the land, they raised children, they savored the company of one another and the freedom of the skies. Then, the Spoken had spread over the lands, like unto a plague of insects, and at first, seemingly no more bothersome.</p><p> </p><p>The first to fall from their machinations was Bahamut, then in twain, his beloved Tiamat, binding herself in her errors for all eternity. He learned to hate them, but mostly, he avoided them, for he needed not mortals; he had himself and his brood-siblings, and most of all, he had Ratatoskr, she of the shining voice, she of the soul that shone like the auroras across the northern sky, eyes the blue of the ocean under a full sun. Of them all, only she and Hraesvalgr, the golden-eyed betrayer, seemed fond of the mortals. Time and again, he tried to warn her, and when she passed on his misgivings…</p><p> </p><p>It ended in blood and ichor, in the disappearance of the soul and power of one of the great wyrms down the greedy gullets of man. When he was crippled by them in his first attempt at revenge, he bargained and threatened, stole power from the betrayer, and stalked their nights and days, became the demon of the heavens, the wyrm that rained death from above onto the deserving.</p><p> </p><p>And for centuries, he thought nothing of those he killed, beyond vague satisfaction at the few who bore his own stolen power. Until the day when in tracking one such, he caught the sound of singing on the wind. Mortals had sang around him before, at least, until they knew he was there, yet never had he cared. But there was something to this voice… The cadence? The phrasing? He cannot pin it down, but there's something familiar about it. </p><p> </p><p>Slinking and slithering closer, subtle and sinuous, he seeks a perch where he can gaze down and spy on the mortals in question. The man, in the disgusting armor forged in and of death, and what he thinks is a female, with bow and arrows and leather armor. She is the one singing, those dire, adept mortal fingers flying across the strings of a harp, drawing forth music like shimmering light.</p><p> </p><p>Then he looks with his other senses and almost falls from his hidden overview. Trapped and diminished within that fragile mortal frame, is a soul that gleams and waves, flickers against the midday sky in scintillant waves of blue and azure, cerulean, turquoise, the endless ocean and the earthly magic of magnetism dancing in the midnight sky. He could not forget. He could <em>never</em> forget that soul and its color.</p><p> </p><p>Ratatoskr.</p><p> </p><p>Nidhogg forces his gaze to the male, the bearer of his stolen legacy. Gunmetal grey, heavy with sorrow and rage, and painted with stains of his own sanguine crimson. Seeped in it, like his own blood did run in those veins. There is the old urge there that ever is, to attack and slay, undo those who had tried to make his power their slave. However…</p><p> </p><p>His single eye, gold encrusted with rust like blood dried and flaking, falls on the woman again. On <em>Ratatoskr</em>. No. If he attacked, he might have to hurt her, for as she sets the harp away and laughs, merry and bright, he is darkly certain that she is an ally of the cursed wretch and she would fight at his side. She never had the fear she should have.</p><p> </p><p>He gathers wings and ascends the winds to the heavens. There are bargains to be made and deals to be done. Let the mortal insects bear peace a brief moment more. He will do what must needs be done to awaken that soul once more.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>His father -- <em>their</em> father! -- is intractable. Inscrutable. <em>Infuriating!</em> Argument and persuasion do nothing for his demands that he awake her to her memories, insistence that such things are not possible, insistence that they obey the rules of this damnable star.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, he roars, voice shaking the very stone, ~Then let me awaken her! Give me the chance!~</p><p> </p><p>~The chance to terrify her when you descend as yourself, the form of the ancient enemy of her people?~</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, he is lost; how can he be the enemy of his sister, his beloved? Then he remembers that her current body, the mortal shell holding that shining soul, is Elezen. May literally still hold the traces of her own gossamer threads of blood, passed down from ancestor to descendent. Thought races, desperate, then a spark of inspiration, like a note struck pure and clear in the distance. ~My Eye. I will give up this form, as you sometimes have yours, and take over that of the one who bears my legacy.~</p><p> </p><p>Midgardsormr, vast and ancient and older than comprehension, scrutinizes him and they begin to dance the debate of words, hammer the terms of agreement.</p><p> </p><p>He will be granted his request. He may speak her name and she will no doubt know him. He may do as he needs be to show her the truth, but without ever saying the truth clearly; she must not be told that truly is the soul of Ratatoskr reborn. If she chooses to sacrifice him in favor of the mortal wretch whose body he has claimed after he has had seven attempts to sway her, his soul will be cut free and he will be lost.</p><p> </p><p>He can do this. He is sure of it. It will not take even seven times, to show her the dragon that dwells within, to open her to the truth, and return her to him. He is sure of it.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Nidhogg gives up his body, that has served him so well through so many eons. A lance through his stolen eye, his flesh, bereft of the source of power, plunging through whirling winds. And the path opens, as his Father promised; he leaps, twirls, rides the currents of aether and alights in his ancient eye, curled in on himself as if in the egg once more, and he waits.</p><p> </p><p>He bides, he bodes. And when the moment comes, he surges forth and through weak-willed mortal flesh, claims and <em>shapes</em>. When he rears back, <em>reborn</em>, dark wings spread to clasp the sky, eyes of scarlet and pure power look down on her and he croons her name. ~Ratatoskr.~</p><p> </p><p>She tries to shoot an arrow through his mouth. Still discomforted with his regained self and recognizing that perhaps in shock is not the best time to convince the woman of her true self, he takes his leave.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>The next two attempts go little better. Another tact, then.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>The next time, he comes to her in a blend of his own form and that of his host, mortal limbs and torso, his own wings and tails and claws. Ratatoskr is afraid, but she does not attack first, holding bow in hand warily, arrow knocked. When he bows to her, she slowly lets the string go slack.</p><p> </p><p>~I would hear you sing again. Will you do that for me?~</p><p> </p><p>Off balance now, she says something -- the name of his body -- and he cannot suppress the brief, bitter growl that rumbles through him. A slight wince, but no argument, bow exchanged for harp. As he waits, keeping a respectful distance, she slowly settles and begins to play.</p><p> </p><p>She begins to <em>sing</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He does not know that he could ever say what, precisely, about her voice makes it the same, because it is not really, except in the very essence. It does not matter. She sings til the the sky turns from light to dark, til she is tired and swaying, startled when he moves to her side, taking away harp and wrapping her cloak tightly back around her shoulders, touch gentle despite brutal claws.</p><p> </p><p>~It has been so long. <em>So long</em>. If I find you again, will you sing once more?~</p><p> </p><p>Eyes wide with shock, eyes blue like the most brilliant edges of her aura, she gives a small nod of her head. It is enough. He turns and leaves her, leaping for the sky.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>The next time he finds her out in the wilds and lands with a vast flare of wings, she startles, but then draws forth the harp with a smile. She sings. They share a waterskin and he collects her berries from the nearby bushes. (Because the old her loved the color. This her apparently loves the taste.) After she eats, berry-stained fingers touch his horns, then his cheek curiously, tracing over the lines of his aether stained into the flesh.</p><p> </p><p>"Doesn't it hurt?"</p><p> </p><p>~Less than being away from you did.~ He can see she does not understand, and he is not allowed to explain. If only she could <em>see</em>, but he has been warned that the strange power she bears now, to see the past, will not apply here. There is the strangest urge to press the mouth of his blended body to hers. Is this a mortal craving?</p><p> </p><p>It confuses him, and he draws away, pacing the small clearing where they have dawdled together. Ratatoskr is tense, and he wonders if he should ask her something. Not her mortal name. Her <em>false</em> name. Instead, he slowly circles back, sits by her feet. ~Tell me how you came here.~</p><p> </p><p>She speaks to him until they hear the clang and clank of approaching soldiers and he flees, not wanting to risk her in confrontation. He knows she is angry that he continues to act against the traitors when he is away from her, but she will understand. She <em>has to</em> understand. She reached out to touch him, didn't she? </p><p> </p><p>There are still two chances.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>He finds her the next time when the sun is setting over the Mists, too close to his own home for comfort had it been anyone else. He hopes she was not visiting his traitorous brother. But no. He will banish such dark thoughts from his mind. This time, he lets the instincts of his stolen host guide him, to pull her into his arms, and close his mouth over hers.</p><p> </p><p>A kiss. He remembers the name, now.</p><p> </p><p>It's… surprisingly pleasant. Not lying coiled together, neck and neck, horns brushing, but still, she is sweet and soft after her initial shock wears off, warm and giving against him.</p><p> </p><p>He begs her, after that. To return with him. To leave the mortals behind. To come to his home, join him and his children. To dwell amongst the clouds. He swears to protect her, to make her mortal life one of joy and ease and beauty. He will show her all the wonders of creation if only, only, only she will forswear her bonds to the Holy See and come with him.</p><p> </p><p>He thinks she's tempted. He thinks she almost accepts. But in the end, she puts him off, says that she must return to Ishgard, that there are duties left undone. Burdens to bear. His tail lashes, frustrated, but he will not take out his anger on her, not now. One more time, then, before he leaves, he touches lips to lips.</p><p> </p><p>She tastes like her aether, crisp air in the heights, all ozone and light.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>It is too long. He goes to Ishgard. If they will put onuses on her, he will remove <em>them</em> to remove the burden. At first, it is glorious. He wears his own shape, and fire and power and blood flow freely, the mortals scattering around him like the fallen autumn leaves, the stone cracking and crumbling. He will scour it from the earth to free her!</p><p> </p><p>She finds him on the bridge. <em>She tries to stop him</em>. Even before he realizes the truth, his soul starts to crack, shatter, flake away. Weakened as she wields the traitor's Eye, his heart, tears streaming down her face, brings him low.</p><p> </p><p>He kneels before her, panting, shoved back into the shell of his host blended with his own. Snarling, he tries to lash out, to remove the damnable mortals by her side, a stripling and a man. </p><p> </p><p>Something within -- <em>someone within!</em> -- grabs at the tearing edges of his disintegrating will and soul. He cannot move.</p><p> </p><p>The boy and Ratatoskr grab ahold of his true Eyes and she looks to him, soul to soul, still weeping, and whispers.</p><p> </p><p>"I am sorry, Nidhogg. But this is <em>not your body. </em>You must leave."</p><p> </p><p>Seven.</p><p> </p><p>Seven failures, and she has rejected him. She has not known herself. She will not love him, not like she should.</p><p> </p><p>Even as he feels his very self fading away, he clings to every nook and cranny he can, shoves himself into the mortal's soul, tries to leave what remnants he can of who he was so that at least in death, some part of him will remain with her. As he becomes the mist in the sea of clouds, tossed upon the winds, he cries out her name, one last time, bellowing her truth to every mind within reach.</p><p> </p><p>~Ratatoskr, my beloved!~</p><p> </p><p>And Nidhogg is no more.</p><p> </p><p>A mortal man lies on cold stone, twisted by draconic aether, and over him weeps a woman with a dragon's sundered soul, and all are alone.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The blame (credit?) for this bit of oddity lies on <a href="https://discord.gg/2w2gtaN">Emet-Selch's Book Club</a> and I remain eternally grateful to them for being my happy place of inspiration. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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